Hello Dog With a Blog fans! This is my first story in this section. It's kinda weird, but hopefully you'll all like it. One thing I should note is that this is rated T for mentions of abuse. It deals with a sensitive subject, so read with care.
And yeah, it's Kavery. I've recently began shipping them. Hard. And combining theories about Karl's mother and Avery's feelings for him brought me . . . this.
I tried to keep it as much in character as I could. Karl is hard to write since he has such a distinct way of talking, but I think I pulled it off okay. It's more his reaction to all of this that I'm worried about. I know it's a sensitive subject, and I really tried to do my best. I hope it turned out all right.
If you'd like a good song to listen to while reading this, I recommend "The Last Night" by Skillet. It was part of the inspiration for this story.
I do not own Dog With a Blog or any of the characters. Enjoy!
* * * Give Me Shelter * * *
"Childhood should be carefree, playing in the sun; not living a nightmare in the darkness of the soul."
- Dave Pelzer, "A Child Called 'It'"
"A kind gesture can reach a wound that only compassion can heal."
- Steve Maraboli, "Life, the Truth, and Being Free"
"Stan, for the last time, I will not wear a bacon dress next Halloween!" Avery said. She walked over to the couch, somehow hoping she could shake her persistent dog.
"But Avery, you would look so amazing!" Stan said, bounding over to her. "And very tasty." He flashed a fiendish dog grin.
"It's not happening," Avery said. She shook her head in disbelief. She had a talking dog, something that only happened in the movies. Why couldn't this be fun? Instead she had to put up with his constant nagging—most of it involving bacon or under-the-table scraps. Well, then again, what did she expect from a dog?
A knock on the door interrupted their conversation. Avery sighed and went over to open it. Who would be coming over this late? she thought as she turned the handle. Her questions were answered as soon as she opened the door. For a second disgust flooded through her veins—a gut reaction—but it was replaced by surprise.
"Karl?" she asked. "Come in."
"Thank you, Avery," he said, his voice strained. He walked through the door and took a seat on the couch.
"Is something the matter?" Avery asked as she came closer.
"No, of course nothing's the matter. Why on earth would something be the matter? Please, Avery, you make me laugh." He promptly faked a laugh.
"Well, maybe something would be the matter because you came over to see me," Avery pointed out. "And you look like you've been crying." It was true. There were faint streaks on his cheek. Avery could hardly believe it. Karl, crying? Which was precisely what he said next.
"Crying? Why of course I wasn't crying! Don't be silly. I'm Karl Fink, and I do not cry."
Stan hopped up onto the couch. He squinted at Karl and began licking his face. "Yup, he was crying," he announced. "Salty! So he was either crying or he was swimming in the ocean."
"I took a trip to the beach earlier this afternoon," Karl said quickly—a bit too quickly, Avery thought.
"Oh please," she said, detecting his lie. "Not only do you have no friends to go to the beach with, but you won't go in the ocean because you're afraid of the jellyfish."
"Have you seen the documentaries about them? Some have stings that can be lethal!" Karl shuddered. "I have a rational fear of jellyfish. It's not weird." He paused for a moment before saying, "Fine, you caught me in my deception. I did not go to the beach."
"So you skydived into the ocean?" Stan asked.
"Stan, could you leave us alone?" Avery asked.
"But—" the dog tried to protest.
"Stan, go to the kitchen. And stay in the kitchen."
"Fine," Stan mumbled. He sulked out the door, tail between his legs.
"We're never going to have a decent conversation with him around," Avery sighed, taking a seat beside Karl on the couch.
"Avery, we are friends now, correct?" Karl asked. Avery could hear the urgency in his voice. It almost scared her.
"Um, yeah, I guess so. Frenemies might be a better word."
"Friends tell each other secrets, right? It is a genuine question; I have no reference point."
"That's the way it's supposed to work. Lindsay, Max, and I tell each other secrets all the time."
"Then there's something I haven't been quite honest about with you. May I . . . share it? Or does the rules about secrets not apply to frenemies?"
"Um, no, I guess it's okay. You can't have anything more embarrassing than what I already know about you."
"This isn't the embarrassing kind of secret. And you must promise not to tell anyone."
"Okay."
"Avery, I need you to promise me. No one else can know!"
"Fine, I promise, I promise!"
"Good." He sighed. He looked into her eyes and opened his mouth, but nothing came out. After a few seconds he looked away and began mumbling to himself. "I can't do this. She'll kill me."
"Karl, just spit it out!" Avery said exasperatedly.
Karl looked at her and sighed again. "You know my mother?"
"The size of an elephant? Screams at you about your underwear on the floor? Crushes cars as a hobby?"
"Yes, that's her. Well, sometimes, Avery, she runs out of cars." He swallowed, then stood up. "I really can't do this. I'm sorry for wasting your time. I'll see you on the morrow."
"Karl, wait!" Avery reached up and grabbed his wrist.
Her neighbor turned to look down at her as she kept him from walking away. She noticed the lock of hair that had fallen across his forehead. She knew from past experiences that it would fall into his face whenever he was distressed. It was kinda cute, actually . . . wait, why was she thinking like that?
"I can't," Karl said again.
"You can," Avery said, pulling him down. "Tell me."
Karl seemed hesitant—or maybe afraid was a better word—but finally complied. He placed his hands on his knees and sat completely still, staring at the blank television. "When Mother runs out of cars," he said slowly. "She . . . uses me."
It took a second for that to sink in. "Wait, what are you saying?" Avery asked.
Karl looked at her sadly. "Mother occasionally—or perhaps more than occasionally—has quite dangerous fits of rage. And her anger is usually directed at me. And I'm just a boy, Avery! I can't stand up to someone like her." He leaned back into the couch. "There. Now you know."
"Are you saying that your mom . . . hurts you?"
"Yes, I thought I made that quite clear." He rolled up his sleeve and revealed a bruise the size of a baseball on his shoulder.
"Oh, Karl." Avery reached over and tried to touch it. He leaned back reflexively. She let her fingers curl backwards before moving closer to him. "Let me help."
"I don't need your help," he scoffed. "I don't even know why I told you. I'm fine, really."
Karl stood up and tried to walk away. Without any warning, he suddenly doubled over. One hand flew to the arm of the couch and the other went to his stomach. He tried to keep a straight face, but Avery could clearly see that he was in immense pain.
"Karl!" she yelled, rushing over to help him. She grabbed his arm and gently led him to the armchair. "Are you okay?"
"Mother may have gotten my abdomen as well," he said weakly. "But I told you, Avery, I'm all right."
"Obviously you're not. Look at you, Karl! Why didn't you ever tell anyone?"
"Mother said that if I told anyone she would only hurt me more. I thought that maybe I could trust you with my secret after you said we were friends. Please, Avery, you can't tell another soul!"
"I have to tell someone! You clearly need help, Karl!"
"No, I do not." He tried to push himself up, but only collapsed back into the chair with a grimace on his face.
"Can I come back in?"
Avery turned to see Stan standing at the door, a sad expression on his face. He was obediently standing in the kitchen, but it was clear that he had heard at least most of the conversation.
"Come here, Stan," Avery said.
Stan ran over and jumped onto Karl's lap. Avery noticed how he was careful about staying away from the boy's stomach. He lay down across Karl's legs and began licking his hand. Karl absentmindedly began to run a hand through Stan's fur.
Avery knelt down next to the chair. "You're not doing this as a part of another devious scheme, right? You're not just tricking me so that I'll have sympathy on you so you can spring some kind of surprise on me?"
Karl turned to look at her. She stared back into his deep brown eyes. They were filled with a hopeless desperation. Not even Karl was that good of an actor.
"You're not, are you?" Avery asked.
"I wish I was," Karl said, staring forlornly into the distance. "Unfortunately, it is my life, Avery. And ever since Father went up into space, Mother has been angrier than ever. Some days I don't even . . . I don't even . . ."
"What?" Avery prodded gently.
"I don't even want to keep living," he sighed. He looked at her again. She could see the tear sitting in the corner of his eye. "It hurts."
"We'll help you, Karl," she said.
Stan nuzzled up against Karl's arm and whined softly to show his support. "You're our friend now," he whispered. "Put your mother in a bacon dress and I'll show her who's boss."
The corners of Karl's mouth twitched. That was the closest Avery had ever seen him come to smiling—a normal smile, that is; she had seen his evil smile many times. "Thank you both," he said. For a few seconds he was quiet, then he added, "It feels good to have friends."
"We're going to find a way to help you," Avery said again. "You won't have to live like this anymore." She stood up. "I'll go see if we have any first aid supplies. I'll be right back."
As she turned to leave, she remembered something her dad—her real dad, not Bennett—used to say: "A kiss is the best medicine."
A kiss? Karl? No way! Not in a million years! He had been her mortal enemy for so long. She wouldn't dream of kissing him . . . but then again, she had. Just maybe . . .
Avery took a deep breath, turned back to Karl, and planted a kiss on his cheek. She turned and ran to the bathroom before he could react, and before he could see the way her own cheeks were blushing.
So there you have it. I really hope I pulled that off well. I know it ended a bit abruptly, but to be honest, I wouldn't know what else to do. I won't be continuing this, so don't ask. If any of you would like to write your own continuation of this story, feel free; just make sure to credit me. I simply wouldn't know where to go from here. But if any of you do, I would love to see how you pull it off.
How did you guys like it? Personally, I'm pretty proud of it. I hope you enjoyed it. Reviews are appreciated, of course. I love hearing what you guys have to say. Thanks for reading! Bye!